Clandestine Obsidian
by Aku Soku Zanza
Summary: Aizawa Taki, a silhouette eclipsing the sun...
1. Lustrous Nectar

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Clandestine Obsidian

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Author's note: Gravitation and all of its affiliated characters belong to Murakami Maki and not to me. Readers may find the characters OOC, but the point of this fanfiction is to trace development and changes over time through events and characterization. So don't worry, all you canon-adherers out there. I will do our beautiful Taki justice. (If I get enough support, perhaps...) Ma-kun's name made by Aibyouka. Thanks to my wonderful beta-reader, Hota.

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Chapter 1 --- Lustrous Nectar

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Laughter. It was a rich, stirring sound, like dripping honey from its comb straight onto your lips. A textured tongue peeked out to scoop it into its welcoming new home.

Dabble. Dabble. Smacking of lips.

Mmm.

It rushed down, warm, tingling, infectious. The comb was passed around and around so that everyone could get that same exquisite taste, the color of the sunrise.

But this particular sample had an edge to it, a lingering aftertaste... of derision, and suddenly Taki felt that he didn't want to be there any longer, surrounded by people who were all too willing to share the foul substance because they certainly weren't going to take it themselves.

"Nice glasses, dork."

This drop was particularly distasteful as the kid ruffled his hair. Taki shirked aside warily. If there was anything he dreaded, it was contact, unneeded, unwanted bodily contact. Being someone who had kept to himself since the day he slid from his mother's womb– crying, screaming– not from the horrifying experience but from the resented, almost violating touch of the doctor's hands as they carried him off... he shook uneasily.

The vibrations of the howling, getting louder and louder around him, buzzed in his ears, echoed through his head, making him nauseous.

He needed to get away.

He closed his eyes.

Why couldn't people physically melt away onto the tiles? Splashing with a satisfying splat and creeping within the small dents and crevices in the classroom floor. Taki didn't want to drink honey. He wanted to be honey.

Maybe if he were laughter they wouldn't be able to laugh at him anymore. He wanted to be laughed with, but there was no way to express that, no way to tell anyone. And even if there was, what bee would wander away from its own hive, lonely and lost, to plant sweetness and delight into his own honeycomb?

"Hey, stop bothering him, guys."

A silence, total emptiness replaced the thick, syrupy goo pouring down his throat. All movement ceased. His eyes fluttered back open like silken insect wings in mid-flight.

Blink. Blink.

An indistinct haze blurred all in his line of vision.

Oh, yes. They had removed his glasses. But Taki could distinguish rough colors and shapes in the seemingly abstract painting laid before him.

It was a blond tidal wave, cascading down a back clothed with the usual black, starchy school uniform, the fluorescent ceiling lights of the classroom shining off of it. Surprisingly the small crowd that had formed at his side had already scattered off, perhaps to find new victims. Thus was the attention span of high schoolers.

"Sorry about that, dude. They're just playin' with you," his savior explained in a friendly and nonchalant tone, as if to tell him not to take it too seriously. As ill tasting as the honey was, it was still honey after all.

Was it... Yes, he knew this guy. He recognized him from the first day...

-------------

He felt uncomfortable then, sitting there in his constricting uniform, the desk seeming to tie him down where he sat. The silver lining on his dark raincloud, however, being that he sat near the window, the only one in the room.

Seeing his reflection faintly outlined in the panes of glass, it felt as if he were free and miraculously outside– that the heated strips of sunlight shimmering into the room were not deflected through the window or off of specks of dust– but directly onto him. For if he felt that it were true, then what was inhibiting it from becoming real? What was keeping matter over mind?

Small pinpricks dotted his back, light pinches that soon went away as fiberglass wings of glistening threads inched their way out from under his tender skin. He stretched back, head thrown back, exhaling. The sky belonged to him now.  
  
Now it tickled, and he could barely contain a joyous grin. Ready for liftoff. But suddenly the evanescent wings shrunk back into his flesh as if they had never been there. Something shook him from the deep reverie.  
  
Eyes.  
  
That was the first thing he felt. Shining dark eyes burning holes into his face. The unease returned as he fidgeted with his hands, turning his head to search for the source of the double-lasered threat.  
  
Light, wheat-colored hair and an inquisitive look stared back at Taki, studying his face with the utmost concentration.  
  
Eyes meeting.   
  
Who would dare blink first and concede victory? But it wasn't because of competition that he returned the look... but because it shocked him so. Never had anyone seemed so attentive, so interested in him, and it was such an unfamiliar yet pleasantly novel experience.  
  
But then his mind caught up to him, his always cautious, guarded mind like an overprotective parent who did in fact look out for him in times of need– yet never knew when to let go of distrust, untangling from his hand, allowing him to take his first few steps on his own. It told him that the overconfident manner in which the other student grinned at him was dangerous. Dangerous.   
  
You know what happens when people get too close to you, Taki, take advantage of you. Don't you forget... Don't you ever forget...  
  
So he broke the momentary bond between them, which in all actuality only lasted several seconds, holding his head rigidly so that he would face the front of the room. Yes, pretend to be interested in algorithms and nothing else. Pretend that it's the most important thing in the world. Because it is. To keep yourself safe.

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But where was that security now? Now that this very same guy was standing before him, having retrieved his glasses from the raucous classmates and was handing them back. What could he say?

"Uh... thanks."

Taki put his thick pair of spectacles back onto his face, feeling quite relieved now that his sense of sight had returned and also because class was about to start. But the bleached blond was still there, his expression mirroring that of the first day, except that now he extended more than a smile out to him.

"So, nice to meet you. My name's Matsushita Kaori, but everyone calls me Ma-kun, so you can go ahead with that, too. No formalities necessary here," the overly friendly boy offered.

Taki managed to keep himself from cringing. Who did this guy think he was? Acting as brash and open as an American... he knew that he wouldn't be able to stand him. But there were basic principles of etiquette in effect here, and as unwilling as Taki was to introduce himself, this Ma-kun character had nonetheless aided him in an outwardly selfless way.

"Aizawa."

"Got anything besides a last name?"

"Aizawa Taki."

"Heh, interesting name. I think I'll just call you Tachi; it fits you better."

As if the incessant probing and obnoxious grin weren't enough to grate on his nerves, the guy had to use _that_ nickname on him. The one Kizuki used to call him...

Flustered and having lost what little patience he originally had, Taki adjusted his posture in his seat and removed his pencils from his schoolbag, bent on ignoring the guy now. Most people would be turned away by this kind of behavior, as it was an obvious sign. Go away.

"You seem like a fun guy."

Taki searched inside his bag for the homework that he was sure he'd stuffed in there last night.

"Anyways, tell me if they mess with you again."

Silence. Where did that stupid worksheet go?

"I'll see you later. Maybe at lunch?"

Ah, there it was. He removed the wrinkled piece of paper from the piles of other ones, thrown in every which way, from the disaster that was his homework folder.

Slyly, out of the corner of his eye, he watched as his strangely optimistic classmate trotted back to his own desk, unfazed by the utter rejection he had just faced.

Well, not that Taki cared. Something like this shouldn't bother him one bit.

But something inside him ate at him with questions. What kind of opportunity could he be missing out on? Was it really worth it taking the bitter solitude in exchange for safety, security, a reassurance for tomorrow? What good does it do if everything is planned out so neatly, so predictably, so that even the golden morning dew called honey tastes like that of yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that...

All of a sudden, lunch sounded really appetizing to him.

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Circling the tiny– yet tastefully designed– courtyard of the school with his eyes, Taki clutched his lunchbox tightly to his chest and stepped out of the doorway into the reaches of the clean, cool air.

Groups of girls in varying hairstyles and temperaments– yet the same binding dresscode– partitioned off most of the grass area, where they chattered noisily about teachers, peers, life, general things. Things that interested them.

An amiable air of merriment settled over them under a gentle breeze and cooperative clouds, who blocked the fiercest of the sun's rays out with their cottony softness– yet left enough for luxurious visibility.

But no sign of _him_.

Why did I even bother, Taki pondered with a drop of frustration and impatience sprinkled over his forehead, when I know what kind of person he'll turn out to be?

But nevertheless, he was curious about what made Matsushita Kaori tick. What gave him that overbearing confidence and spring in his step that denoted not arrogance but a sense of self-awareness that boggled his mind?

He needed to find out.

Why?

Because he wanted to find out the secret that had been kept from him since his creation, since the beginning of his feeble existence.

Who is Taki?

Maybe, perhaps, if only... this guy could decipher the language of the bees as they buzzed past, the bees that retained some ageless secret that had slipped from him by some unfortunate twist of circumstance.

Then... then he could finally let his feet leave the ground, toes brushing against the slippery green tendrils of grass beneath them... and be liberated.

But at the moment, the grass and the Earth pulled at him, unwilling to give way, so that he sat down under the shade of a particularly neglected-looking oak tree, deciding to make the most of this time. He usually spent his lunchbreaks hibernating in his favorite corner of the classroom alone– and together with the part of his life that had most likely saved him thus far from drowning in the seas of amber syrup.

Another song?

Dimpled face and nimble digits, crooked and tense, penning their heart out.

The piles of paper that had earlier only served as a nuisance, overcrowding his schoolbag, now became his lifeblood as he scribbled, an absent expression blanketing his visage, the lunch very agitated at being so rudely forgotten.

"Whatcha workin' on?"

Frozen. He seemed to have been attacked by a frostbite of the rarest breed and species, the kind that preyed on warm-climated areas, the infamous _frostbiteus holycrapus_.

The shadow cast over him expanded– yet the temperature only rose. Body heat.

"Oh, you're a writer?"

Chapped lips of winters long departed returned to seal away his power of speech, a tongue chiseling at the chamber door... but to no avail. The intruder approached him like a vulture, circling closer and closer... Or perhaps the circles were only in his head. But he knew... Oh, he knew that his prey had already been defeated– paralyzed with raw fear.

But the predator stopped abruptly when the content on the paper was in sight.

"Poet?"

The princess kissed the frog.

"_Song_writer."

Taki was one step ahead of where he used to be because he had discovered something one champagne-tinged day. The language of the bees had to be written in _music_, with the ingredients of song and light, hopes and wishes, and marshmallow dreams. Definitely those.

"I'm a musician as well," replied the blond after a moment of uncharacteristic hesitation. "May I see it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

What a preposterous request, letting a stranger see _him_?

"Don't be that way, Tachi. You want to know something, find something out from me, and I'm willing to share it in exchange."

H-How did he know?

"...Truly seriously really no joke?" One eager breath.

Grin. "I was born without the ability to lie."

"Ummm... alright." The shock was making him do stupid things. Stupid, irresponsible things. Stop. Why was his heart beating faster in anticipation... as if it had been made of cold, rigid marble for all these years and was starting to feel the surge of volcanic lava bubble beneath it?

Passing of the page.

"_Mystery in its suffocating shroud, its liquid darkness_..."

He didn't need a companion... He didn't need anyone to trust or rely on. Aizawa Taki was special, created to become special, but more than that he was _independent_.

"..._Shuddering, vanquished in the face of the persistent wind_. God, Tachi, that's amazing."

Bullshit.

No man was an island, but this boy was a moon, orbiting the Earth... as if it longed to partake in the festitivities of the inhabitants.

And besides, green cheese got quite tiresome after awhile.

"But this isn't finished."

"I'm aware of that."

"Why don't you complete it?"

"Not done."

"What?"

"Me... I'm not finished with myself. I'm writing it as _I_ go." And he was sure that the ending would come to him with the divulging of the secret. Please tell.

The taller classmate chuckled then, a freshly opened jar of honey in which you could dip a single finger, licking it off relishingly. Taki smiled weakly. How could he not...? There was someone putting his own self in a vulnerable position, someone who had a mystery to reveal, someone in full bloom before him...

"Well, to keep with my side of the deal... what I wanted to say to you is... you-you're... ever since the first glance... this...

"...I'm in _love_ with you."

He didn't believe that honey went down into your stomach but rather straight to form the golden aura that was your soul. It satisfied your soul just as it pleasured your tongue. Such a tricky substance, made from the love of bees for flowers. Such a bittersweet substance, for the flowers did not reciprocate the affection.

He gathered his belongings and walked straight out of the schoolyard.

Why didn't they? They were so beautiful– yet so cruel. Their soft petals pricked your face with invisible thorns of tragedy. Their enticing aroma gave you broken hope and only served to superficially mask the uncharming things before you. They pretended to weep along with you, with your sorrows, when it was only because excess pollen had agitated their eyes.

He did not understand. He did not need to understand. He had been lied to one time too often... but...

But they were still just as loved, just as lovely, in the same way that Taki aspired to be.

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Next chapter: Find out a bit more on Taki's background and his reaction to the situation at hand. Review with support/ideas/rants/criticism? All loved.


	2. Bittersweet Recollection

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Clandestine Obsidian

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Author's note: Gravitation and all of its affiliated characters belong to Murakami Maki and not to me. Readers may still find the characters slightly OOC at this point, but you should be able to see where I'm going with this by now. (Comments and criticism will help the process along, trust me...) Special thanks to Hota for beta-reading and Aiby-chan for her love.

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Chapter 2 --- Bittersweet Recollection

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The light. The light shined so brightly. Too brightly. His eyes hurt, and he wiped them with his sleeve, trying to erase the pain with the fervent rubbing. Where was the way out? Since when did he ever seek comfort in darkness?  
  
But a shadow stood before him, blocking out the harmful rays of the scorching sun, offering him a bit of relief by sacrificing itself. The figure had such a benevolent demeanor... a kind face smooth with youth, skin textured by gossamer threads.  
  
He didn't speak. Nor did he need to. Master poet of silence, artisan of tranquility.  
  
Taki extended an arm and walked forward, but he could never seem to bridge the distance as hard as he tried. Autumn leaves scattered and reddened with the crimson blood of sunset pulsing through the veined crispness. The sky settled into a soothing sherbet of hues, and there was no longer a need for the standing form posed before him.  
  
"Kizuki..." Dark locks and well-defined features... eyes that always seemed to be at attention, eyes that shimmered along with your delight, eyes that bled clarity with your sorrows, eyes of molten obsidian...  
  
He caught his attention then and was relieved to see his treasured older brother taking a few steps forward... steps that could span the expanses of the globe with their magnitude though he barely seemed to be moving. Within a matter of seconds, they were facing each other.  
  
Kizuki grinned and embraced him tenderly. He'd always felt like this, so warm that you wondered if lava flowed through his body, so subtly soft that Taki never had a teddy bear. He had no need for them... with a brother so diligent in his duty since birth.  
  
They _lived_ for each other.  
  
"Don't leave, please... Brother..."  
  
"I'll never do that to you, Tachi... Didn't I say we'd never be apart? Stop worrying so much, it'll give you wrinkles." He rubbed Taki's cheek gently with the side of his thumb as if to brush away the tears that he knew would come. If not now then sometime in the future... because this was the only promise he would never be able to keep.

"...I'm in _love_ with you."

His lips were just as shiny and moist to the touch as he had imagined countless times, glistening under the dying throes of sunlight's despair– the leaves going through a metamorphosis of burnt oranges, vermilions, maroons– deepening along with the kiss. This was the only way he knew of... the only true way to seal a promise.

But reopening his eyes, softly brushing over them with heavy eyelids, Taki stared into the soft eyes of a soul bleached blond, regarding him with the deepest desire. Ma-kun.

Ma-kun?

The fuzz was jolted like the adjustment of antennae as Taki was brought back into the lesser of worlds shaking visibly under his covers. Sweat drenched his pajamas yet his skin was freezing to the touch.

People would never understand why he dreaded sleep so much– the demons of the dream world enticing and seducing him into their haven– distorting his very picture of reality.

What was that all about?

It'd been awhile since he'd had a dream like that. Kizuki... as painful as it was, it was to be expected. But Ma-kun? Was it what he had said that day?

Forget it, Taki. Didn't you make your decision already?

Stay Taki, you're no one else but Taki.

Don't forget who Taki is.

You might be the only one able to recall.

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He'd come looking for change. An escape. At his former school, everyone knew and respected Kizuki. He was but the nameless one shaded by the persistence of his brother's everlasting glory. Coming out into the light, Taki saw clearly– with no pretensions– and he decided that he didn't like it at all.

Thus a private school.

Entering through the gates, he told himself that today was today. It wasn't a day to be depressed over anything in the past or to think too much even of the day before, the night before.  
  
Once again he found himself sitting in the same place with seemingly the same mathematics lesson being taught, the words fluttering over his head like gnats that he swatted away with nonchalant annoyance.  
  
Wait... Quiet and then... a disturbance?  
  
"I didn't do it, Mizuno-sensei!"  
  
"Don't lie, you will be punished with class duty every afternoon this week! No complaints!"  
  
"Awww... but... I didn't mean to!"  
  
Taki felt that frozen kiss tasting like spearmint frost his lips again...  
  
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"You did it, didn't you, Taki? Again... again?!" She spit poison, deadly venom from her now-extended fangs. Kizuki leaned back against the wall near the doorway, his arms folded over his chest and observing the circumstances, a bit disgruntled.  
  
"How many times do I need to tell you? Be more responsible! Look at your brother. Would he do something like this?"  
  
He couldn't keep the tears from flowing. You crybaby. Don't let them see you like that. Even if it were an insignificant deed, he was still accustomed to it. Used to his mother's irrational wrath.  
  
"Mom, don't blame Tachi..."  
  
Kizuki.  
  
"Oh, you're babying him again, Kizuki. Stop it. He does not need it. He's spoiled!"  
  
"Mom, I was the one."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I did it. Not him."  
  
Why are you helping me...? Why are you tarnishing your own honesty with such an obvious lie...? Let me take the punishment I deserve and be over with it. Let me be chastised for watching the mating dance of the butterflies and forgetting the task at hand.  
  
But all Taki could do was turn away as his brother silently met the sentence that his mother was reluctant to execute– because of who the victim was. He himself was too weak... too passive even to lift a hand.  
  
He then retreated into the weightless darkness of his room and sat on his unmade bed, staring blankly at the white walls, glowing even with the limited shreds of moonlight sifting through the window.  
  
Awhile later, Kizuki came in, wordlessly, soundlessly, wrapping his arms around Taki and laying both of them down onto the soft mattress, hugged by warm blankets and sheets. He pressed his face into his younger brother's back, and Taki could swear that he felt something wet pervade the fabric.  
  
"I'm sorry it has to be this way, Tachi..."  
  
They slept. And it was comfortable and warm. They dreamed. Marshmallow dreams that allowed them to believe... believe that things would be better someday.  
  
Someday.  
  
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When he felt himself come to, Taki sensed a familiar warmth– reminiscent of that one peaceful night– heating his forehead, opening glossy eyes to survey his surroundings. He was on the floor of the classroom– dozens of eyes surrounding him in a tight circle of black uniforms, burrowing holes into his head– Ma-kun cradling him with a delicate hand.  
  
Ma-kun?  
  
"Are you all right, Tachi? Here're your glasses; they fell off. Oh my gosh, you fainted! Are you sick? You fell over just like that! Do you need to go home?" Phrases aimed at him like bullets from a firing squad.  
  
"He didn't mean to do it..." was all that scraped off of his dry lips.  
  
"I know, I know," replied Mizuno-san. "I changed my mind. Mistakes can be excused as long as they don't occur again."

Good, good.

But he could never be pardoned for his incapacity to act.

Standing with difficulty on weak knees, Taki decided to take up on the offer and go back home. He wasn't feeling up to doing any learning today, but then again, when was he ever? Two days of leaving school early could cut at him perilously, but it was necessary for his sanity.

About to exit the classroom he felt that electrifying touch burn his shoulder again, lighting a fever in his cheeks. "W-What is it?"

"Hey, I just want to get your address or something, so I can bring over the assignments and notes for what you're missing today."

"Alright."

Sounds reasonable. And he really wasn't in any condition to argue, so Taki divulged the information readily before slipping out with his schoolbag at his side.

"I'll see you later then..." He muttered a choppy farewell.

And freedom was sweet. The fall wind chafing his skin with a delicious edge, the sun showing modesty with its orange rays.

It was Kizuki's favorite season after all. He'd always enjoyed the perfect balance between warm and cold, like Nature standing on tippy-toes and doing its best not to trip over its feet for three months. It was awkward and clumsy but proof enough of the appeal of imperfection.

He would have loved the weather this day. Not humid and not dry... Nature was doing a magnificent double pirouette and did not falter even on the landing.

Taki was reminded of a certain fall day... eight years before, when he had skinned his knees running over to meet Kizuki in front of his middle school. He did his best not to whimper, standing stubbornly at the entrance with crimson-stained kneecaps and sniffling, the laughingstock of all the elder students.

But Kizuki simply ignored all that, carrying him all the way home in his strong arms, already sturdy and toned at thirteen, making jokes and silly comments just to get Taki to forget the pain for a little while though his own limbs were starting to ache.

Once home, he washed and disinfected the wounds, continuing with his smiles and giving his brother a treat of strawberry ice cream during the hurtful process. With two new bandages securely placed, a kiss was presented to each courageous knee and a hug to their owner. Taki smiled and shared the ice cream cone, already having forgotten the frowns and follies, showered in pure contentment.

When he finished thinking about the memory, a grin stretched across his face, Taki felt a few drops of coolness dot his head. It was starting to drizzle.

He did a flip-flop. Because...

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Because where was Kizuki now?

After searching through his room, the neatly arranged desk sitting indifferently in the corner, numerous awards hanging on the walls, a reflection of empty austerity that could only mean that the bond keeping it all together was absent.

He told him they were going to meet right after school, didn't he? Taki strayed around under the fig trees in the schoolyard in impatient distress. It wasn't like him to be late, ever. And when he asked one of Kizuki's classmates, she replied that she'd seen him leaving school a few minutes early, a strangely calm expression on his face, leaving his umbrella under his seat.

But Brother wasn't home, and home wasn't _home_ without him.

There was, however, only one other place he'd be. Even in the dismal gloom of a rainy day, Kizuki would be there, in all equality with the birds, at a height befitting him.

Taki circled the stairway up. Higher up, the myriad of concrete steps a blur against his red tennis shoes, the new ones with the bleach white laces, now soggy gray after having run through the flooded sludgy streets of Tokyo... the ones he'd gotten from Kizuki for his birthday. They were untied, and so was he.

The soft rhythmic patter of rain drummed against the building, his footsteps followed with a consistency just as intensely reliable as that of nature. Echoing through its hollow interior with an eerie parody of silence, all the words he'd ever exchanged whispering through his head, his memories speaking to him, it all seemed like a song. Lonely ballad. A song written so long ago, before the stars could blink, before the clouds had feathers...

So he trudged on, urged on by the emotive effect of the poignant vocals. When he found him, he would share a few verses with Kizuki.

"_Pierced by needles of truth, welcoming a numbed reality_..."

And so what if they were repeated from some other time long ago? He would remember and smile. That smile of confident warmth that told not lies, could not tell any lies as hard as it might try. It was a smile made out of purest aqua, clear to the depth and soothing to the lips.

He would then sing along with the words, a voice unique and candid against the age old chanting. He would infuse it with a piece of himself, generous enough to light the gray skies with his harmonious notes of truth, a beacon to reach the entire city, raising the curious eyes of all those covered by the veils of umbrellas. They would drink to the clouds' droplets of liquid poetry, transparent music.

But the current atmosphere was still darkened by a fog of uncertainty as Taki finally reached the top of the steps. Only one possible obstacle in his way.

He pushed open the heavy metal security door with a screeching complaint from the tired hinges and stepped into a symphony of sound. Where it had been a slow ballad accompanied by contented drums in the background, now there were instrumentalists dancing through the air with their own ideas of how the tune would play. Each to his own interpretation of how the beat would resonate.

Tap tap pitter pat. But they all ended up with the same fate after a burst of staccato, all the different pitches and measures fusing together to become one life-giving sea of hope. With as much depth as a smile.

It was that smile that struck Taki with its brightness. The sparkle shined even from across the roof of the industrial grayscale apartment building with a sheen of its own caliber. Incomparable.

"Kizuki..." Taki extended a hand in his direction, paralyzed by the sight laid out before him. His brother stood there at the edge of the roof, his arms intertwined with the bars guarding the side overlooking the enormity of the city. It was dotted with lights, but none was as bright as the radiance of his visage.

The droplets had already bathed him with the finesse of song. They baptized him Melody and gave him a wardrobe of white luminosity. He was soaked through and through his simple blue jeans and white sleeveless shirt, seeming so defenseless and naked through the haunting telescope of sight reflected by raindrops.

Simply Kizuki. With no embellishments or exaggeration. Kizuki.

Kizuki.

"Go home, Tachi... Please go home..." The unexpectedly dry lips parted with difficulty to utter those words. Why was he still so bright... so full of life, if he wasn't even smiling? Why was he so beautiful amid all the ugliness of the world?

"But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me... I'm going home too... Home to a place where I'll be safe and happy, you know...?" He curled his lips upwards slightly, trying to give a smirk, a failed imitation of himself.

"I've always wanted you to be the one smiling, Tachi. The one with the glow of joy beaming from your face. Not me. I've never belonged in this..." Kizuki raised his arms and embraced the sky, the same sky that had forsaken the very idea of colors, a painter's nightmare. "...This place."

Taki's heart nearly stopped from the shock of realization. If he and Kizuki weren't from the same home, didn't live in the same place, how would they ever be together again? Together like Kizuki had always promised to be.

"Brother... Come back..." His vision diminished, a haze glazing over his eyes. Was that rain that had dripped into his bleary windows? It must have been. The tears salted the gathering dampness sliding down his trembling skin. "You said you'd stay by me forever... You never lie..."

"Sing, Tachi. Let your words reverberate... play your vocal cords like a harp... and eventually people's heartstrings as well..." Was he imagining things or was Kizuki biting his lower lip... trying to keep it from quivering? Did he tilt his head and blink rapidly because he wanted to express something sweetly forbidden?

"..._Memories undying, despite the stranglehold of time_."

"Brother..." Was this the last word to his song?

A bittersweet diminuendo to end it all.

"I love you, Tachi."

I love you. I love you. I can't help anything, can't speak a word, can't stop you from leaving, I _love_ you.

I didn't know you could fly, Brother. You were always so full of surprises... exposing a hidden talent and a satiny pair of wings at the last moment. Why couldn't you have taught me so that we could soar together into the sky... past the grief, past the gray nothingness that was this world... to a place where not just one... but both of us could smile?

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"I'm going to be a singer," Taki stated matter-of-factly upon returning home from that troubling day of education, glancing submissively toward his mother. She was seated on a couch in the living room and perusing a book that just happened to be turned upside down.

"Mmm... That's fine, Kizuki, honey. You sure do have plenty of talent in that area. Now go fetch your little brother from school now. He should be getting out at about this time, and we don't want him to get lost coming home like he did last week. That child just has no sense of direction or responsibility," she replied, flipping a page and staring at it blankly.

Taki just nodded in accordance and strolled across to his bedroom where he immediately closed the door and set his drenched schoolbag down with a sigh. He was used to this, of course– after all, it was definitely better than the way it was before– used to keeping himself from shouting at her, "Your son is _dead_. The son that you loved is dead. The other one still lives. Why couldn't he have taken his place?"

But sometimes... on days like these, he almost felt himself crumple under the weight of his own disillusionment and longing. He wanted just as much for it to be him who had taken the plunge, a great leap onto the other side, instead of Kizuki, whose memory protected him from the blows of injustice he'd suffered in his own name.

Though the phantasms within his old school had become too hauntingly possessive to tolerate, the denial of his mother regarding the veracity of the circumstances kept them lodged in the same location, the same tall gray building of rough concrete.

They weren't poor by any definition of the word– his mother hailing from a wealthy family– but her refusal, or perhaps inability, to comprehend that her eldest son killed himself at age seventeen kept the room down the hall empty. It was tidied up and dusted regularly by the tsking mother who scolded "Kizuki" lightly for not keeping it clean, but Taki himself never ventured anywhere near the spot that filled his senses with the smell of rain, blood-soaked rain, with a tinge of salt.

He couldn't stop the remembrance as flashes of that day cycled over and over again in his head. His deafness obscuring the silent screams pounding through his body, almost loud enough to stop the flight of the raindrops. The iron bars coming towards him and the tricks played on his eyes by perspective.

Kizuki there. Kizuki suspended in midair. Kizuki mile high. Kizuki's way of saying goodbye.

Kizuki was _amazing_.

And what was he now? An actor, a mere understudy in a role designated for someone else? Auditioning and never making the part... he shouldn't be allowed to attend the performance– someone else's performance.

The name didn't make the person. Nor did the looks. Taki glanced into the full-length mirror hanging on his wall and studied himself.

Dark locks and well-defined features... But with eyes of bitter grief, eyes that had never seen a sunny day but from the slits between rusted metal bars, eyes tired from years of seeing and seeing much more than they could ever hope to comprehend.

He was nearing the age himself - the age at which Kizuki had kept himself eternally. What a rotten deal he'd gotten, trading a lifetime for the fountain of youth, leaving Taki to melt away into oblivion.

How could someone so loving be so utterly merciless? To rob him of his identity for the sake of his wellbeing, to linger after his own death, to reincarnate himself for a new beginning.

But a mistake can be forgiven if it's not committed again... right?

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Next chapter: Is there room for Taki to change (even the slightest bit) and forget his fears? Or shall he be forever cursed to remain a misanthrope? If you loved me, you would review. ï


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